Love is a Game I'm Losing
by VoicesInTheWind
Summary: "Just one drink, Sam," Maggie edged closer. "It'll be fun; I promise." Basically Sam whump.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any characters from or associated with Supernatural.**

**I was playing with word limits for my own amusement and the result is a story exactly 3,000 words long, divided into 6 chapters at 500 words each.**

**This story is loosely based on a drabble by 27jaredjensen, who was kind enough to lend me her plot bunnies.**

* * *

"Dean, can't we leave yet?" Sam was whining again. He had been whining for the past hour, and for the last hour Dean had been steadily ignoring him.

Dean was on a roll; nine games in a row, and somehow none of the local talent had cottoned on yet. This place was almost too good to be true. Good thing Sam had needed a restroom, or he wouldn't have stopped until they hit Colorado.

"No, Sammy, not yet; now shush! Daddy's working." The next shot all but threw itself into the far left pocket. Dean laughed and pumped his arm into the air. Rick and Sean paid up grudgingly.

Sam sighed. "Dean, I'm serious. See that girl over by the bar?"

Dean glanced in the direction Sam's eyes flickered. "Yeah, she's smokin' hot. So?"

"_So_, she's been looking at me funny since we walked in."

Rick missed his shot. Dean was impressed with his use of adjectives mixed with the familiar cusswords, but not with his pool skills. He turned back to Sam. "Well, then why don't you go over there and say hi, Sam? It wouldn't hurt you to get a little action now and then. I'll just finish up here and head back to the motel." Dean grinned slyly. "I won't wait up."

"You aren't listening to me." Sam let out one of those little huffs that meant he was getting annoyed. This was usually about where he got impatient and bitchy. "I don't mean _your_ kind of funny, Dean. I mean _our_ kind of funny." Sam lifted one eyebrow suggestively.

Dean frowned. "Wait, you mean you think that girl – that girl, over there – is a- a _what_, exactly?"

Sam shrugged. His gaze swept over the room, watching for, but not lingering on, the girl. "I don't know; I'm just getting this really weird vibe off of her. I think we should leave, Dean."

"Sam." Dean turned to face his brother fully; he set his pool stick down. "Sam. I am raking in the money here; they're practically throwing it at me. We haven't had a case, paying in any way or otherwise, in weeks. We can't afford to pass this up because you think her aura is funky."

"I didn't say 'aura,' Dean." Sam growled. Dean was already turning back to the pool table. Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean, I really, _really_ think we should leave."

Dean shook Sam off. "And I really, _really_ think you should leave me the hell alone! Just for an hour, Sam; can you give me an hour? Is that too much to ask?"

Sam was stunned. He nodded and walked back over to the table he had been occupying previously. He couldn't figure out where the anger had come from. Sure he was being persistent, but Dean didn't usually have a problem with Sam voicing his concerns.

The girl was still watching him. Her eyes gave Sam goose bumps, and not in a good way. Sam looked away. _Hurry up, Dean._


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

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Dean felt a little guilty, watching Sam sulk off to his booth in the corner. He wasn't sure where the anger had come from; it just sort of came out.

He and Sam had been travelling together for a couple months now, and while he was loving spending time with his brother again, Sam could be a lot to deal with. Winchesters were stubborn by nature; they wouldn't be Winchesters otherwise. Put two such people in a car together – even as incredibly _sweet_ a car as his Impala – and the results spoke for themselves.

Dean sighed and lined up his next shot. He could see Sam in his periphery; the kid was just sitting there, slumped in his seat with his arms crossed and his bangs in his face. Dean knew he'd have to make this right before they moved on, but they really did need this money. What he said to Sam was unjustified, but there was no point in taking it back now.

Another thing about Winchesters; they never apologized. It was one of John's more idiotic laws, but one Dean and Sam had grown up with, and Dean'd be damned if he was gonna start breaking it now.

But… that girl _was_ watching Sam. Come to think of it, Dean had noticed her on their way in, and not just because of her forever-long legs and low-cut top. Something about her was, well… creepy.

Now that Dean was looking, the way she stared at Sam was something beyond disturbing. She reminded Dean of a stalker ex he had at one point… what was her name? Not important. What was important was the fact that her eyes were so milky and pale they looked almost white. And the symbol she was wearing around her neck; that couldn't be something just anyone picked up in a gift shop.

"Hey, buddy, it's your shot." Sean growled. This night wasn't going the way he had expected it to; whoever this guy was, he could play. And Sean had lost all of his beer money to him.

When Dean didn't respond right away, Sean poked him in the ribs with his pool stick. The reaction was immediate and violent.

Sean looked up from his new position on the floor, staring at Dean in shock. Rick was gaping like a codfish caught downstream when the dam shut off. Half the bar patrons had turned to stare.

Dean blinked once. Oh. Well… shit. Sean was bleeding from the nose and everybody was looking at him.

_This is why you never lose focus; losing focus causes mistakes_ – how many times had John Winchester drilled that into Dean's head? And all for nothing, apparently; Dean had let himself get distracted by Sam and the girl and he reacted on instinct when someone jabbed him with… a pool stick.

"Um, Sir, I think you should leave." A waitress – the cute one Dean winked at earlier – said timidly.

Dean nodded and glanced around for Sam; time to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

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Sam watched as Dean was escorted from the bar. He stood up and made to follow, but found his path blocked. It was the girl.

"Uh, hello." Sam said uncertainly, when she showed no signs of either moving out of his way or addressing him first.

The girl blinked twice. Her pale blue eyes found Sam's every time she opened them, and Sam found he couldn't look away. He didn't even want to look away… why would he look away, again?

_Dean_. The name sounded an alarm in Sam's head, and he could think clearly again. Right; he needed to get to Dean, before his brother decided to leave without him. And that would be just like Dean, too. Of course he wouldn't go far; just around the corner, probably, but Dean would think it was very funny if Sam came out and found the car gone.

"Hello." The girl said at last, drawing Sam's attention back to her. She only came to about midway up his chest, and he had to look down at her. "What's your name?" she asked in a voice like bells.

Sam found himself answering, even as he turned over the possibility of her being something supernatural that wanted to suck his blood or eat his liver. "Sam Winchester. I'm here with my brother." Sam wanted to kick himself; he'd have to get Dean to do it for him later. He wasn't sure what was going on, but his every instinct was on high alert and everything in him was screaming that this girl was bad news.

"Not anymore you aren't; he left." She pointed out. Her eyes never left Sam's face. "I'm Maggie," she added.

"Hi, Maggie. Um, look, it's nice to meet you, but I need to go. My brother is waiting for me." Sam tried to edge his way around Maggie, but she didn't move at all and the only option at this point was climbing either over or under the table. Sam considered and rejected the idea. Better to talk his way out than get thrown out and possibly roughed up in the process; he hadn't missed the way the bouncer had handled Dean as he was escorting him outside. Dean had fought back, naturally, but Sam didn't want a fight if he could help it.

Maggie took a step closer. It was the first she'd moved since appearing by Sam's table. "No, he isn't. He left. He's gone; we are alone." something in her tone made Sam want to run.

Sam cleared his throat. "OK, even if Dean did leave, we aren't alone; there are twenty-three people in this bar, not counting you and me."

Maggie smiled a haunting, hollow smile and leaned in close. "Have a drink with me. Just one drink, then you can go find your brother. Please?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't know what one drink could hurt… and her eyes were so utterly mesmerizing.

"Just one drink, Sam," Maggie edged closer. "It'll be fun; I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

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The alleyway smelled like vomit. There were no stars because everyone had their lights on. Someone had been trying to break into the Impala when Dean was shown – none too gently – the door.

Dean hated this town.

He was waiting for Sam, now. He hadn't wanted to leave the bar without his brother; actually, he had fought tooth and nail to remain inside until Sam joined him, but that bouncer was a big guy, and Dean didn't really want to hurt him.

Sam would find him soon. He had been itching to get out of there even before Dean broke the nose of one of the customers. The thing was, Sam seemed to be taking his time.

And Sam never kept Dean waiting.

Dean let out a huff of frustration. Enough was enough; if Sam wasn't coming out, Dean was going in.

It wasn't hard to get back in; no one was watching the door. But the sight that met Dean almost made him wish he hadn't tried.

Sam was on the floor, gasping for air, with that freaky chick he had warned Dean about sitting in the booth Sam had been in all night, watching him. She looked concerned, but in Dean's eyes the only logical explanation for Sam's current state was her. Bitch was going down.

But Sam came first, of course; he always did. Dean knelt beside his brother. No one said anything to him as he checked Sam's breathing. Sam's heart was pounding in his chest, far too fast for Dean's liking.

This reminded Dean of something… one time when Sam was really little and he had an allergic reaction to some seafood. Dean looked around for anything that could have caused such a reaction; he was pretty sure they didn't serve seafood here.

His attention fell to the shot glass on the table, opposite the girl, who was… gone. Shit. He'd deal with that later. He grabbed the glass and sniffed it. Tequila… but Sam wasn't allergic to tequila.

"You," Dean pointed to the waitress, who looked on the verge of tears, eyes glued to Sam. She glanced up at him with glazed eyes. "Did you see the girl he was sitting with? Did she give him anything?"

The waitress shook her head, brunette curls bouncing.

"No, you didn't see the girl, or no, she didn't give him anything?" Dean demanded. The girl looked like she might go into shock, but Sammy was already there. No time to be pleasant.

"I-I didn't see anything, but we were pretty busy tonight…" she trailed off when Dean looked away.

"Damn it, Sam." Dean muttered. With a grunt of exertion he grabbed Sam's arm and slung it over his shoulder. Dean heaved Sam to his feet with a little help from the bouncer, who was now staring at Sam with concern; most of the people in the bar were staring, actually.

Dean dragged Sam towards the door. They needed to get to the hospital, like, ten minutes ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

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Things were a little fuzzy right now… it was a familiar sensation. It was so very, very familiar, but Sam simply wasn't able to place it at present. He wondered vaguely why that was, but that same fuzziness was making it hard to keep his thoughts in order and it was easier to just let it go.

The lights were really bright here, even through closed eyes. Sam could tell he was lying flat on a reasonably comfortable surface, but as soon as he tried to figure out _why _his head started pounding. Another thing better left alone, it seemed. Maybe Dean would tell him… where was Dean, anyway?

Panic at his brother's absence brought Sam's eyes open at last. It was a few minutes before he could see anything, but when he could it all made perfect sense.

White walls, white sheets, florescent lighting determined to leave no corner untouched in its crusade against the soothing darkness; Sam was in a hospital. And he was hooked up to an IV drip. And Dean was holding Sam's right hand tightly in his left, even in sleep.

Sam relaxed; Dean was here, and he didn't appear to be injured. Sam obviously was, though; he knew this mostly from the way Dean – absolutely no chick-flick moments, under pain of death, Dean – was gripping his hand like he'd never let go. There wasn't really any pain just now, so it must be pretty bad.

Winchesters didn't agree to pain meds, hospital or no, unless whatever was wrong with you was gnaw-your-arm-off painful. Hell, Winchesters didn't _go_ to the hospital unless it was a do-or-die situation.

Dean stirred beside Sam, coming awake slowly. His green eyes cracked open, and then flew the rest of the way when he saw that Sam was awake. Dean cleared his throat. His gaze moved critically over Sam, cataloging his condition before speaking.

"So, Sam… what the hell, man?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out. A violent cough resulted when he tried a second time. So he had been asleep for a while, then, if his throat was any indication.

Dean cursed quietly and produced a paper cup of water from somewhere. He hadn't let go of Sam's hand yet; Sam was pretty sure Dean had forgotten he was holding it.

Sam drank greedily, moaning pathetically when Dean pulled the water away.

"Not so fast, tiger; don't wanna make yourself sick." Dean's eyes flickered around the nearly-empty room, as though suddenly realizing how ridiculous that sounded when Sam was already in the hospital for…

"Dean, what happened?" Sam asked. His voice came out scratchy and soft.

Dean sighed tiredly and reached up to rub at his eyes with the hand not holding Sam's. "You're not gonna believe this." he warned.

Sam's eyes narrowed. He fought demons and werewolves for a living. "What the hell happened, Dean?"

A pause as the brothers stared each other down. Sam won.

"You were poisoned… with a love potion."


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

**To everyone who has reviewed - thank you. It really means a lot.**

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Dean watched Sam closely as he processed this strange turn of events. It took Sam a moment to pull it together enough to form a coherent question.

"Wha-what?" OK, so maybe not an _articulate_ question, but at least Sam was awake now. The doctor said that his throat had swollen up so much he wasn't getting any air; he was oxygen deprived for nearly two minutes.

That was last night; it was now about three in the afternoon, and Dean wasn't the only one who had begun panicking when Sam remained unresponsive for so long. The hospital staff determined that Sam wouldn't suffer any permanent damage, since they had gotten him on a ventilator quickly enough, but none of them could tell Dean why it took his brother so long to wake up.

Dean shifted in the hard hospital chair. One of the nurses – a cute one with blonde pigtails and a perky smile – had brought him a cushion last night, but it still wasn't ideal. He exhaled a loud breath. Sam waited with an eyebrow quirked for the explanation behind the bizarre statement.

"Remember that girl who was staring at you back at the bar?" Dean waited for Sam to nod. Sam shuddered lightly, too, and Dean frowned. "Well, turns out she's a witch. Not the real deal," Dean dropped his voice for the benefit of any passing medical personnel. "Just a wannabe with a freaking powerful recipe for making people fall for her. She must've slipped something into your drink or something."

Sam's eyes roved away from Dean distractedly. Dean waited while Sam thought, trying not to let his apprehension show.

"She had a charm, too." Sam said finally, returning his gaze to Dean's. At Dean's confused expression Sam elaborated, bringing his left hand to his neck to illustrate his point. "Her necklace; it had a charm on it. Looked old; might have been Faery."

"Ah. Yeah, I noticed that, too. I told Bobby to keep an eye out, but she was long gone by the time I got back. Bobby wants you to call him, by the way; he wouldn't believe me when I told him you'd be fine." Dean shifted restlessly in his seat.

Sam's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked. He was using his bitch voice.

Dean shrugged. His shoulder protested; he had spent the last seven hours in the exact same position, and it felt like it. "You were out for a while." He said vaguely, hedging around uncomfortable facts.

"How long?"

Dean sighed deeply; "Sixteen hours, give or take."

"Shit."

"Pretty much."

The boys sat in silence for a time. Sam changed position and the motion tugged on Dean's wrist; he was still holding Sam's hand. He let go quickly, belatedly hoping that Sam wouldn't be hurt by what he might possibly construe as some kind of rejection.

Damn; he was going soft.

Sam smirked at Dean. "Wow, you must've been pretty worried about me, huh?"

"Shut up, Sam."

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**The End**


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